


White Suits and Maidens

by katsqdon (harowun)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alive Marco Bott, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Because fuck canon, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Canon Universe, Eren Yeager is a Little Shit, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mikasa Ackerman & Levi Are Related, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Non-Binary Hange Zoë, POV Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Pining, Slow Burn, also freaky ackerman biology, and by probably i mean i don't know how to pace, because erwin doesn't know how to express his feelings, because he's not the emotionless monster everyone makes him out to be, because i love them all, because they're both oblivious dumbasses, but that's ok because we still love him, erwin feels guilty, for that reason, hopefully, i definitely don't, i.e levi can't get drunk :(, lots of new levi squad interaction, probably, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28677237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harowun/pseuds/katsqdon
Summary: Four years ago, if you'd asked Levi what he thought of 13th Commander of the Survey Corps Erwin Smith, he'd have said he was a manipulative, self-serving, emotionless bastard with a sick obsession with sending people to their deaths.Now, he's not so sure.-The year is 850. The newest batch of cadets have chosen their regiments. The Military Police and the Garrison prepare themselves for a peaceful life, and the Scouts prepare themselves for death. And, somewhere in amongst all of that, Levi is trying to comprehend why Erwin is so suddenly protective of him.
Relationships: Levi & Hange Zoë, Levi & Mike Zacharias, Levi & Nanaba & Erwin Smith & Mike Zacharias & Hange Zoë, Levi/Erwin Smith, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 141





	1. Chapter 1

Levi stands at the side of the stage in the palace of Wall Sina, which was being used to recruit the 104 th cadet corps into the regiments. Currently occupying the centre stage was Commander Erwin Smith of the Survey Corps, attempting to convince the cadets to join their cause: to fight for humanity and fight against the titans. One glance at the sea of youthful faces in the crowd reveals a clear divide - those who look horrified and those who look determined. The former seems to be outweighing the latter. This was likely due to the bluntness of Erwin’s speech, which delivered nothing but the cold, hard reality of being a soldier in the Survey Corps.

It was a short life that would probably end in a painful death, the estimate that around 30% of them would be dead by the end of the next expedition, and the percentage would increase to reach most of them in four years’ time. The speech was more intimidating than persuasive, but it was better than luring children to their deaths by giving them false hope; telling them they’d become heroes, saviours of humanity, when in reality they would almost certainly end up dead before any progress was made. They would die as pawns in a game far greater than they could imagine; their only impact being becoming titan food, nothing but a waste of four years of training and scout funds.

The crowd begins to disperse as Erwin concludes his speech, and Levi watches with unsurprised disappointment as the majority of cadets leave the stage, preferring the safety provided by the Military Police or the Garrison Regiment. He didn’t blame them; these were children, no older than sixteen or seventeen, being asked to throw their lives away in a sacrifice that nobody would remember.

He stifles a sigh as the numbers keep on dwindling, scanning the faces of the few he saw still rooted to the ground, seemingly suffering from great internal conflict: a young man with grey hair, fists clenched and eyebrows knitted; a young woman with golden eyes, face etched in horror, shaking. The expressions of every person who was still standing in front of the stage were fearful, knowing that by not moving they were signing themselves up for an early death.

Eventually, the hurried shuffling of feet and the whispers of indecision ceases, and all that remains are the scattered forms of cadets, some visibly shaking. A short, blonde girl whimpers helplessly, and the brown-haired girl next to her harshly whispers something, causing her to become silent. Levi lets his eyes wander through the crowd: twenty one cadets remaining. An expected number, but surprising given who they were. This was the division from which the suicidal brat, Eren Yeager, had graduated, and yet no one seemed to share his hatred and determination towards the eradication of the titans.

In fact, many of them looked like they would rather be anywhere else, as if sudden paralysis of the legs was the only reason why they were still standing in front of Erwin. So why? Why were these teenagers so adamant on signing up for death? For pride? That could be much easier obtained in the Military Police, a regiment of actual recognition and nobility. Heroism? Erwin had already told them clearly their chances of survival were critically low, especially in the long run. Were they that confident in their abilities that they believed themselves able to survive, or was this out of loyalty to Eren?

Based on the uproar in the courthouse caused by his fellow cadets when he had beaten the shit out of Eren at his trial – especially the two he spotted side by side at the foot of the stage, an angry-looking girl who reminded him much of himself, and a timid blond boy – he had many friends who cared for him. Were they seriously loyal to the point they’d offer up their lives to fight by his side? No wonder that brat’s head was so big, having his ego constantly fed by people who looked up to and cared for him.

“If you cadets were told to die, would you?”

Erwin’s voice cuts into the silence of the courtyard, and the room once again descends into silence afterwards, the cadets stunned by his blunt question. Levi watches their faces, twisted in conflict, wondering if they had truly thought through their decision. After a moment, a voice responds, a shout, sounding pained but sure as the words left his mouth.

“We do not wish to die, sir!”

Erwin allows himself to smile then, and Levi joins in on the sentiment. Scared shitless as they were, they had spirit, and that was one of the fundamental elements to a soldier of the scout regiment. They could fear all they wanted – hell, even Levi still got scared sometimes – but as long as they could turn that fear into drive, into determination, then they could become a capable soldier. Erwin inclines his head at the soldiers and speaks in a low tone,

“I see. You each have an outstanding look about you.”

Raising his head to look at the cadets, Levi finds himself agreeing. Just by looking at their expressions, the way they held themselves, he could tell that many of those present had been in the top ten of their division. Though varying in build, height, appearance, each of them had a similar and yet entirely different aura. Even those who were beyond terrified had a passion, a drive that proved they could make decent soldiers. He only hoped that that passion was enough to keep them alive long enough to reach their full potential.

The smile leaves Erwin’s face and his expression moulds into one of seriousness as he looks into the small crowd of cadets, raising his voice to address each person there clearly.

“All of you are hereby accepted as new members of the Survey Corps! This is a genuine salute!”

In one swift movement he brings his curled right fist over his heart, the other behind his back.

“Give your hearts!”

The cadets follow instantly, returning the salute with a resounding “Yes, sir!” echoing throughout the courtyard. Glistening eyes look upon Erwin, knowing that their childhood dreams of the Survey Corps - of being saluted by the Commander - were unfolding in front of them. Fear is overruled by a sense of conviction. Their anxieties were not eradicated, but with a fist on their chests, giving their hearts to the Scout Regiment, they allow themselves to forget about the future for a moment and live in the present. One of the cadets makes eye contact with Levi and stiffens, straightening themself further as if under scrutiny, and turning away with wide eyes.

With the cadets recruited, Levi watches as Erwin walks off stage with a pained smile on his lips. Levi doesn't need to ask to know what it means. The sea of faces out there, the newest members of the Survey Corps, young and passionate, had resigned themselves to a premature death. It wasn’t easy, recruiting such innocent, determined children, knowing that you were sending them to their deaths. And even if they didn’t meet an early demise on their first expedition they would be traumatized, and then sent on expedition after expedition, making no progress, watching comrade after comrade die until they met the same fate.

It was a miserable, horrific life, which was why Erwin didn’t sugar-coat it. It was one thing to lead soldiers to their deaths, but it was another to lead them to their deaths when they had any hope otherwise.

He gives Erwin a sympathetic nod as he approaches. “I know.”

He sighs in response, pinching the bridge of his nose as they descend the wooden stairs and make their way towards the accommodation wing of the palace.

“Am I a monster for leading them to their deaths, Levi?”

Levi doesn’t hesitate to reply, the answer needing no thought. “You aren’t leading them to their deaths, Erwin. You gave them the reality and they still chose to join us; they know that their deaths will be no one’s fault but their own. All you can do is lead them well enough to prevent those deaths for as long as possible.”

A long time ago, when Levi had first joined the Scout Regiment, his answer would’ve been much different. When his head had been consumed with grief, he could do nothing but blame Erwin for the deaths of his friends; refusing to accept responsibility for trusting them too much and leaving them unattended, refusing to accept that it had been nothing but bad luck in thick fog that they had run into a titan. 

It had taken much time and trust, and the bluntness of Erwin’s words, to make him realize that death was unavoidable. That he should channel his hatred towards the titans, the true killers, rather than dwelling on useless grudges for the sake of having someone to point fingers to. It wasn’t Erwin’s fault that fog had appeared during an expedition, and he could not have anticipated the infiltration of an abnormal into their formation. In the Survey Corps, one had to accept that death was common, and it was unavoidable. No one man could prevent the deaths of hundreds of soldiers against a titan, and Commander Erwin Smith could not prevent everyone’s death.

A small smile plays on Erwin’s lips at Levi’s response, and he turns to him with kind eyes.

“Thank you, Levi.”

“Tsk… whatever.”

Levi avoids his gaze, his usual response when showed gratitude or given praise. A soft chuckle sounds from next to him, one that meant Erwin knew exactly what he was saying. His dismissive replies and cold exterior did nothing to convince him that he wasn’t grateful when he received such sentiments, despite Levi’s protests otherwise. Throwing a halfhearted glare towards the Commander, he pushes open his door and disappears into the temporary quarters he had been given for the duration of his stay in the capital.

There would be a party tonight in the palace, in celebration of the graduation of the cadets. Unfortunately for him, all commanders, captains, squad leaders and the like were required to attend. The only reason he wasn’t feigning life-threatening illness to get out of it was because Mike had convinced him to hang out by the food table with him, where there would hopefully be less people. Although Levi had tried to explain that cadets who had been living on rations for three years were unlikely to turn down food - food from the height of society no less - his pleading had won out and he begrudgingly accepted. Standing up to Mike would come across as hostility, and he did not want to deal with the wrath of a 6’5 man with a terrifying sense of smell, especially with the added burden of training new recruits.

He also supposed he would have to acquaint himself with said recruits before training started, to take this chance to assess their personalities and mentally prepare himself. Hopefully, there wasn’t  _ another  _ Eren among them; he could barely deal with him alone, God help him if there were others who shared his insanity-inducing personality traits.

Despite the nature of the celebration – i.e. the majority of the guests would be immature teenagers – the dress code was formal, considering it was being held in the palace of Wall Sina. They, along with the cadets, had been issued tailored suits and gowns, because anyone with half a brain knew that the Survey Corps had neither the money or use for clothing other than loungewear and uniform. Levi had never owned his own suit - during his life in the Underground or the past six years in the corps - and he did not plan on owning one at any point in the future, especially when his only use for them was when he was forced to attend the condescendingly irritating social gatherings in Mitras.

Luckily, this celebration was mostly for the cadets and their regiments, so he wouldn’t have to be plastering on any fake smiles to appease nobles in an attempt to win them over, so they’d keep funding the Scout Regiment. The only officials who would be attending were the regiment leaders themselves: Nile Dok, Dot Pyxis, and Erwin Smith, as well as section commanders and other ranked soldiers. He was fairly certain Nile would leave as soon as the cadets started to get drunk – inevitable, really, given the fact they had access to alcohol – which was a stroke of luck for Levi, whom the man seemed to harbour an unexplained hatred towards. 

The officials who showed up, if any, were there as partygoers. It was a celebration of the cadets, not an evening of pandering to rich idiots. He could get away with completely ignoring them and pass it off as being too busy fraternising with his new regiment members.

So, honestly, this wasn’t the worst celebration he could be attending in the capital. He had been to far worse, and the fact that none of the cadets had been born or raised in Sina was enough of a reassurance that there would be a much different atmosphere than usual. The cadet initiation party was the only one he looked forward to, if by ‘looked forward to’ you meant dreaded slightly less than usual.

He picks up his tailored suit from where it had sat, waiting, draped over his chair and scrunches his nose up in disgust at it. It was so plain, a certain downgrade from the scout uniform, even his day clothes - he couldn’t see how anyone thought of this as fashion. A plain, black shirt paired with white dress pants and a white blazer.  _ Fascinating _ .

He had never been a huge fan of white clothing, what with how easily visible it made dirt, serving as a constant reminder of the uncleanliness of the underground. He preferred to wear darker colours, so he could at least convince himself he was maintaining some semblance of propriety outside of the comfort of his house, which may well have been the cleanest place in the entire city. 

So, looking at the colour on the ridiculously expensive Sina fabric, he can’t help but frown in distaste at the offending pieces of clothing. He had half a mind to completely ignore the suit and instead wear his uniform, but he disregards the idea in favour of not further pissing off the Sina officials (who already seemed to harbour a deep hatred for the fact an ‘ _ underground rat _ ’ had managed to work his way so high up the ranks).

With a sigh he gives the ugly suit one last look before heading to the bathroom to prepare. Levi revels in the feeling of the hot water, relaxing as the tension of the day is slowly worked out of his aching muscles. The memory of forced smiles and sweaty handshakes - of sympathy from rich, fat officials who had never left the safety of the walls, who had never even seen a titan – are reduced to nothing but a dull buzz at the back of his mind. 

He sighs contentedly and slides further into the water, making the most of the hot water that was scarce back at headquarters. Maybe that’s why he kept agreeing to accompany Erwin to shitty council meetings, because there was always the promise of a decent bath and enough food to actually sate your hunger in the capital, whereas the corps’ funds could barely cover expeditions, let alone sufficiently feed dozens of soldiers.

When he finally drags himself out of the now-lukewarm water his limbs are heavy, and he has to resist the urge to just collapse straight onto the silk bed and sleep through the party. The thought does cross his mind, multiple times, but he manages to distract himself with drying off enough to not give in. Sometimes his self-control was more of a curse than a blessing.

After raking a hand through his damp hair until it looks somewhat presentable, he reluctantly begins to put on the suit. It is  _ ugly _ . That was the simplest way in which he could describe it. Despite apparently being tailored to his measurements (which he hoped meant they had guessed from looking at him, because at no point in time had he let a tailor anywhere near him), it fits too tightly in places and hangs too loosely in others. The sleeves of the blazer are just a little too long - he has to roll them into themselves so that his hands are visible – and the waist of the trousers is too small, digging into his hips to the point where Levi wouldn’t be surprised if he looked like an hourglass.

Casting a hesitant glance at the mirror he catches his reflection and scowls, because he looks like an absolute idiot.

An abrupt knock interrupts his thoughts and he turns with a start to the source, not even managing to open his mouth to answer before the door swings open, followed by a figure.

“Levi!”

Hanji doesn’t seem to register the fact that he had barely finished dressing, and had narrowly avoided an extremely awkward situation. Though, he supposes they would turn such a situation into an experiment rather than just turning around and walking out like any decent human being would do. But, then again, he still wasn’t convinced Hanji was a human being.

“What’s the point of knocking if you’re just going to come in anyway?”

Hanji runs their gaze up and down his body once, seeming to finally assess the situation, and quirks their lips up in amusement.

“I don’t want to give you a heart attack, old man.”

He manages to stifle a sigh and runs a hand down his face, blatantly turning away from Hanji in an attempt to signal the end to the conversation he really didn’t have the brain power for. Mentally preparing himself for this party had proved to be quite taxing.

“Tsk.”

If Hanji picks up on his foul mood they don’t mention it, in fact they seem intent on further provoking him. Shifting from the spot they had been rooted to at the entrance of the room, they lean against the doorframe in the most obnoxious stance possible, practically emanating ‘I am actively trying to piss you off right now’.

“Nice suit.”

“Shut up.”

Levi is currently one jab away from committing murder. Of course they had to bring up the suit as an insult to injury. The utter offense this outfit was causing him was definitely 95% of why he was so irritable tonight. The other 5% was just his general distaste for life.

“Oh come on, Levi. I think it looks cute.”

“I swear to God, Four-eyes, I will feed you to a titan, and make sure I kill you beforehand so you don’t die fulfilling some perverted, titan-researching fantasy.”

They don’t seem to register his threat as anything other than amusing, but relent regardless. 

“Ok, I’ll stop. We need to get going anyway, the cadets have already started drinking and I don’t think Mike and Erwin can handle a bunch of drunk teenagers alone.”

Standing up from where they had been propped against the doorframe, they begin to exit the room without any further explanation. Levi reluctantly shuffles out of the room in tow, immediately feeling even more self-conscious about his outfit outside of the privacy of his room.

“What about Nanaba?”

He asked, to direct his thoughts elsewhere. Though, he was curious about her whereabouts, given she was normally the chaperone at these kinds of events. Hanji acknowledged his question with a slight turn of their head, not bothering to face him and choosing instead to raise their voice as they make their way down the excessively decorated halls.

“She already surrendered responsibility. Said she had important paperwork to do tonight.”

Levi snorts, “Important paperwork down at one of the taverns?”

Hanji doesn’t respond, but they look over their shoulder for a moment to reveal a giddy smile spread across their face. He smirks, of course she was.

“Mike is not going to be happy, though I’m surprised you aren’t tagging along.”

They don’t look over their shoulder this time but he can hear the shit-eating grin from the suffocating levels of smug delight in their voice.

“Who says I’m not? I’m just your escort, suit boy.”

The smirk drops from his face so suddenly it could cause whiplash, and he fights the urge to tackle Hanji to the ground and break the legs they’re currently bouncing happily down the hall on. He’d like to see them try to get to the tavern without him while paralysed from the waist down.

He speeds up in order to catch up to Hanji (fucking long legs) and grabs their shoulder, spinning them around with such force they almost do a full turn. They barely have time to recover their balance before he starts protesting.

“Fuck that! If you’re not going I’m not going.”

They manage to stand on their own two feet again and fix him with a look, having the gall to look sympathetic for a moment despite being the one to betray him. Though this look was quickly replaced by amusement. Of course they find this funny, they get to go and laugh about this with Nanaba while drinking enough alcohol to induce a coma while Levi babysits a bunch of drunk teenagers who can’t hold said alcohol.

Hanji’s lower lip juts out excessively and they seem to be reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder, before realizing it would be a grave mistake. Their hand freezes halfway before dropping back to its original position, though this does nothing to sway their act.

“And leave Erwin by himself? What kind of Captain would that make you? Besides, one of the conditions I negotiated with him for a granted absence from the party was ensuring that you attended. Commander’s orders.”

They’d made a deal with Erwin and used  _ him _ as a bargaining chip?

“You conniving little-”

Levi is fully prepared to follow through on his promise to kill Hanji and feed them to a titan. He could stage it as an accident. No one would ever know.

They seem to recognise the all-too-familiar ‘I am currently mentally planning your murder’ glint in his eyes, because they chuckle nervously before exhaling a huffed breathe of relief when their desperate attempts to avoid his gaze result in the revelation that they’d arrived at the door to the hall.

Spinning around excitedly to face him, worries evaporated upon the realisation they’d avoided their fate for tonight, they clasp their hands together in finality.

“Well! It appears this here ends my duties for tonight, and Nanaba is waiting for me at the tavern.”

Before Levi can protest, most preferably by threatening their life in deeply disturbing ways, they’ve practically materialised out of existence, disappearing around the corner at the other end of the corridor before he can even open his mouth.

Great.

Theoretically, he could just turn around and leave right now. He could walk back the way he came, lock himself in his room with his endless supply of hot water and silk bed sheets so soft he almost wishes he lived here. The party would go on without him, and he could have another bath that wasn’t below freezing before he had to go back to the repulsive Scout Barrack’s communal washroom.

Realistically, he knows that the only thing he can do right now is walk through that door and get the night over with. Erwin had personally requested his attendance, had even sent an escort just to ensure his arrival, and for some reason he feels a pit in his stomach at the thought of going against this. It disturbs him that he can’t quite decipher whether it stems from the thought of the reprimanding he’d get tomorrow if he went against direct orders, or of how it would disappoint him if he didn’t go when he’d asked him to be there with him.

Whatever, he could handle a few snotty teenagers; it was probably good to at least see those of them who were joining the Corps before they started training with him tomorrow.

So, instead of turning 180 and making a beeline for his room (as much as he wanted to, and he really wanted to), he takes a moment to smooth down the front of his offensive suit and compose himself. After a few deep breaths to convince himself he doesn’t look like a complete idiot (which aren’t very effective, he still feels like an idiot), he curses under his breath and enters the hall.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you fucking kidding me?”
> 
> His head snaps up, eyes wide and blinking at the sudden outburst. Levi stares at him incredulously, anger pulsing through his veins at how utterly ridiculous the Commander was being. He takes an unconscious step forward and registers the taller man stiffening at the proximity.
> 
> Good, he’d better be intimidated, maybe he’d be able to get into his head more effectively the stupidity of his actions.

As Levi pushes open the door to meet the party which had already commenced, a sudden quiet settles over the room as the cadets turn to face the Captain. Apprehension is written across their faces, looking as if they’d been caught doing something they shouldn’t have been. As if they would’ve even dared, given that Erwin was already in the room. He scoffs. Trust these stupid teenagers to be more afraid of him than their Commander.

Deciding that he doesn’t want to make yet another first impression as an anti-social asshole (which was usually the case), he forces himself to wipe the natural scowl from his face and replace it with something more neutral, one that wouldn’t deter everyone from coming within ten feet of him. Dropping his shoulders to appear more relaxed, he runs his eyes up and down the room once before nodding in recognition and making a beeline for the corner.

It seems to take everyone a moment to register his actions, and several eyes follow his movements before one of them begins to drunkenly ramble and conversation starts up again, and he is forgotten about. 

He can feel lingering eyes on him, the gazes of starstruck teenagers desperate for a chance to talk to humanity’s strongest soldier. He was no stranger to it, especially having put up with Eren, but he hopes if he blatantly avoids acknowledging them, they’ll take the hint and leave him alone. He was here for the formalities, and maybe to drink enough that he was no longer aware of the ugly suit currently tainting his image; he was not here to socialise with hopeful teenagers who would be dead before winter.

Mike is already at the food table, as promised, sniffing a perfectly normal-looking plate of cheese which is no doubt highly offending his nose. Placing the plate down warily, he scowls in distrust before turning to watch the approaching Captain. He wouldn’t be surprised if he had sensed him coming, him and his terrifying sense of smell. He’s dressed in a simple black suit, and now that he thinks about it, Levi is the only man among them _ not  _ wearing a black suit, which only further convinces him that this was a personal attack on his dignity. 

Mike nods slightly at him and steps back to accommodate him because, as expected, the table is crowded by the cadets (see: teenagers who had not eaten more than rations in five years were suddenly presented with a Sina-grade banquet). Mike, apparently, had not anticipated this, and looks slightly confused and overwhelmed at the number of people in his vicinity.

A girl with brown hair grabs at a slice of meat with such desperate ferocity that it’s flung from her grip and skims the two men, by a distance far closer than Levi would like to think about. The bald boy next to her sighs in exasperation and looks up to apologise, and upon realising who he was apologising to the colour promptly drains from his face. Levi gives him a look that was meant to be begrudging forgiveness - but more likely comes across as seething hatred - as the boy practically whimpers in fear before turning and running away, dragging the girl behind him, who now has a leg of meat hanging from her teeth.

Deciding he doesn’t want to be caught in the crossfire of any more flying food, Levi throws one look at Mike before distancing himself far away from the table. The abnormally tall man follows him, shuffling awkwardly behind him as they push through the crowd to reach the other end of the room. It is painfully obvious that Mike does not want to be at this party any more than Levi does. He’s just lucky to be short enough to blend in; Mike and his unfortunate 6’5 gangly form look glaringly out of place, especially when stooped down like a hunchback in an attempt to avoid social interaction.

They reach the wall and lean against it in relief, finally out of the immediate vicinity of any other partygoers.

“I don’t like parties.” Mike mumbles out after a moment, and Levi lets out a startled laugh.

“Yeah, no shit.”

Mike smirks at that and leaves the safety of the wall for a moment to grab two drinks from a passing waitress. He hands one to Levi wordlessly, and they both sip their drinks silently as they watch the crowd. The room, despite its ridiculously large size (courtesy of the rich bastards of Sina), is almost full of people. ‘Graduating cadets, mostly of the garrison regiment’, he realizes with both disappointment and relief. ‘At least that’s less letters of condolences Erwin has to write’. Ranked officials of each regiment are also present: he manages to spot Commander Pixis by the refreshments table, on what is clearly not his first, or fifth, drink judging by his inability to stand straight and the exasperated expression on Anka’s face as she fails to pry the glass from his hands before he downs it in one swift motion.

As he had suspected, Dok has already left, likely having excused himself at the earliest opportunity.

“Ah, there’s the social butterfly.”

Levi doesn’t have to ask to understand who Mike is referring to, eyes automatically searching until they rest on a blur of blonde peeking just above the swarms of partygoers. Erwin Smith, ever the charmer, has fully integrated himself into the crowd, making smooth conversation with both Sina officials and the newly graduated regiment members. A polite smile is etched across his features as he talks with a short, round man who Levi vaguely recalled as one of the corps funders.

Officials aren’t exactly his strong suit, given that he had been ‘advised against’ attending further meetings in the capital after his use of ‘excessive vulgar language’ against a potential funder who had belittled the aims of the corps and the deaths of his comrades. Personally, he thought he had gone easy on them, at least by his standards. But then again, the officials were nothing but a bunch of cowards with no use but their overflowing pockets and no knowledge of titans but watered-down hearsay passed through to them in the safety of their mansions. He supposed a captain talking out turn was the limit their fragile minds could handle.

The short man is chatting animatedly with Erwin who, in comparison, is straining to keep the smile on his face, as is evident by the slight twitch in his eye that went unnoticed, unless you were someone like Levi who had sat through enough meetings to know that Erwin hated the officials just as much as he did. No doubt the man had, as usual, dropped some snarky comment about the corps and Erwin had officially decided he was done with the conversation. Unfortunately, simply walking away from the idiot was a death sentence for the corps’ funding, so he has to stand there (and pretend he wouldn’t look the other way if a titan suddenly broke into the walls and grabbed him) until he loses interest and leaves to bother some other unfortunate regiment member.

Levi observes their muted conversation for a few more minutes out of lack of anything better to do, drowning out Mike’s now half-drunken rambling next to him, no doubt about his absolutely hopeless and embarrassing crush on Nanaba. He really wishes Mike had the common sense to realise Levi could not care less and go cry about it to Pixis or someone else who could sympathise with him, or at least pretend to care. But for some bizarre reason Mike had decided he was the go-to when Erwin was busy doing things like socialising that he would rather die than do.

His eyes flicker from a red-faced Mike back to the blonde in the middle of the room just in time to catch the smile slip from his face. It isn’t an eye twitch or a split-second falter, the smile had disappeared and been replaced by hooded eyes and a visibly clenched jaw. That man had pissed Erwin off, to a degree he hadn’t known he was physically capable of displaying, let alone in a room full of people he was meant to be maintaining his image in front of. For some bizarre reason, the idiot hadn’t even seemed to notice his change in demeanour and carries on talking as if nothing were amiss. Levi wouldn’t be surprised if he punched him - hell, he  _ hoped  _ Erwin punched him.

His feet are directing him towards the two men before his brain even registers it, fists clenched unconsciously at his sides as he pushes his way through the masses of drunken regiment members and officials. He hears him before he sees him; the dangerously low tone of his voice getting gradually louder as he nears. Yeah, he’s pissed. As he pushes through the last person blocking him from the conversation, Erwin’s eyes widen almost comically in surprise at his appearance before returning to their hooded state as they focus back on the man before them – who also seems shocked by Levi’s sudden presence, albeit less ‘pleasantly’ surprised and more put off.

He doesn’t hesitate to place himself between them, taking up his place next to Erwin and swivelling around to face the other man (who is, apparently, a lot taller than Levi thought, he realises as he stands between the two, both of which he has to look up at to make eye contact. Which, admittedly, makes his death glare less effective than he would’ve hoped).

The three of them stand in silence for a few awkward moments as Levi attempts to burn holes through the man with the power of the hatred emanating from his eyes, while the man in question seems to be alternating between being annoyed at the interruption and borderline terrified. A throat being cleared causes both of them to break their stares and jerk their heads towards the source to find a now-recomposed Erwin, face once again impassive and posture stiff. How _ disappointing _ . He was quite looking forward to seeing him finally snap and give one of the officials the beating they deserved. He guessed that was an event for another day, and maybe not when it would be the first impression the new scouts had of their commander, no matter how badass it would be.

“Ah _,_ Captain Levi, we were just talking about you.”

Levi doesn’t miss the passive aggressive tone of his voice. What a surprise, yet another official who had a bone to pick with him. He’d have to spin the wheel to guess what his issue was, given the range of complaints he’d had raised against him during his time in the corps. But he was willing to bet it had something to do with his ‘lowly background’. That was their favourite term to use when they wanted a quick way to invalidate his opinions or get him blacklisted from important events.

“Levi. This is Dimo Reeves, he’s one of the Survey Corps potential funders. I was just telling him about the success of our latest expedition. You played a vital role.”

He forces himself to hold back a scoff. If that’s what you could call killing titans when his comrades had already been severed at the waist by their disgusting jaws, and spouting useless bullshit about how they had contributed to the fight for humanity when they were just another body; another waste of three years of cadet training, of scout gear. Another mother who’d lost their child, another manufactured condolence letter among hundreds. If that’s what you could call a ‘vital role’, showing up just too late and letting soldiers die, then sure.

But he hadn’t missed the commander’s emphasis on the words ‘potential funder’, i.e. code for ‘don’t fuck it up’. Levi has to hold back on the beating he was preparing himself to deliver in Erwin’s place because one step out of line could risk the disbandment of the entire regiment. They were on thin ice. No one wanted to waste tax money so scouts could go outside the walls when they were safe where they were, so they had to kiss the asses of the officials, so they’d give them their money. It disturbed him, the fact that they basically had to pimp themselves out just to keep their regiment’s foundations when the others were sitting on top of money that goes to buying them nice houses in the interior and keeping them well-fed.

“Is that so? Well, I’m terribly sorry to cut your conversation short but I am in need of the Commander’s assistance.”

He turns to Erwin to emphasise his point, ignoring the irritated expression on Reeves’ face. Erwin seems to search his face in explanation for a second before his eyes widen a fraction in realisation and he turns away to look directly at the other man.

“It seems I am needed elsewhere. I hope we can continue this conversation at a later date.”

Reeves doesn’t make eye contact with the commander, choosing instead to fix a glare on Levi, jaw set firm.

“Likewise.”

It’s spoken through gritted teeth, the distaste clear in his voice, but the captain takes it as nothing more than a signal of dismissal and walks back into the crowd without another word. As expected, the commander follows behind him, and Levi makes a beeline for the door without looking back.

They step out into the hallway, and he closes the door before turning to face Erwin, arms crossed expectantly. Erwin, who had abruptly stopped upon realising they weren’t walking any further, looks at him in confusion, wondering why he isn’t talking despite dragging him out here.

“Is there a problem, Captain?”

Captain? Wow, Levi knows he’s pissed but he doesn’t understand why  _ he  _ is on the receiving end of his shitty mood. Maybe he should’ve left him alone, then he would’ve begged for forgiveness from a filthy prison cell for underestimating him because he wasn’t there to stop him from beating the ever-living shit out of Reeves. Bastard.

“Oh, I don’t know, Erwin. Do you want to tell me why you looked moments away from murdering Reeves right there in the ballroom?”

He seems caught off guard by the accusation, avoiding his gaze as his expression darkens, likely recalling the incident.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re referring to-”

“Don’t pull that bullshit with me, Erwin. You may be able to get away with it with those titan-brained officials, but it won’t work with me and you know it. What did he say to you?”

His eyebrows furrow before he forces a neutral expression onto his face as he looks back at Levi. Idiot. He knows he can see right through that stupid expression so why is he bothering? There’s no one else nearby. What could that fat bastard have said that was troubling him so much, anyway?

“He was talking about you.”

Oh. 

Wait, what?

“What?”

His eyebrows draw together again as an uncomfortable expression takes over his face, forehead creasing as if it pains him to think about what had happened. He clears his throat, still refusing to look at him.

“He was saying… unfavourable things. About you. About the underground.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

His head snaps up, eyes wide and blinking at the sudden outburst. Levi stares at him incredulously, anger pulsing through his veins at how utterly ridiculous the Commander was being. He takes an unconscious step forward and registers the taller man stiffening at the proximity. Good, he’d better be intimidated, maybe he’d be able to get into his head more effectively the stupidity of his actions.

“You almost lost us the corps because of something some idiot said about  _ me _ ?”

The Commander’s expression seems to shift from confused to angry, taking his own step back to distance himself. His posture straightens as he towers over the other man, the closest thing to a scowl possible behind his desperately upheld neutral expression.

“You say that like it’s unreasonable.”

Levi scoffs, turning away to clench a fist at his side. He’s quite sure if he looked back at him at this moment that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from swinging at his stupid face. He pushes his tongue into his cheek in an attempt to calm himself down before turning back and compromising by poking a finger into his chest with enough energy to translate his frustration.

“Unrea- of course it’s unreasonable! I am not worth losing the corps over!”

Erwin retaliates by grabbing the offending hand with his own in a vice-like grip, yanking it so that Levi stumbles forward - close enough that he can feel rather than hear the way his breath trembles in anger. His eyes, a startling shade of blue, shake with such intensity that he fights the urge to squirm under their gaze - and distracts himself from the fact by focusing on out-intimidating him by staring back at him.

“You  _ are  _ the corps Levi! Do you think we’d even be a fraction as far as we are now without you?”

His hand trembles with the force of his words, and is left outstretched as Levi yanks his wrist back, staggering back a few steps before regaining his footing.

“Of course you would be! They wouldn’t have made you Commander if you were useless!”

The Commander in question growls in frustration, running a hand down his face and staring at the Captain in disbelief. Levi has never seen him so unkempt, and it infuriates him. Why does some ridiculous incident involving _ him _ have to be the thing that breaks the emotionally hardened leader of the Survey Corps?

“My strategies  _ are  _ useless if there’s no opportunity to carry them out because we can’t even get a mile beyond the walls without ending up dead because the titans overpower us! Your titan kills outnumber everyone else’s put together and then some, do you think we could do this without you?”

Levi chooses to ignore the regurgitated praise he had heard from the empty brains of every Sinan gossiper in favour of letting himself be fueled by anger.

“What’s some bald swine’s opinion of me got to do with any of this?”

His face hardens at that, diverting his gaze as his eyebrows crease in thought - as if he doesn’t quite know himself why he was so bothered by it. 

“I couldn’t stand to hear him talk like that about you.”

His voice drops to almost a murmur, like he’s ashamed to be admitting it. ‘As he should’, Levi bites back subconsciously, hands screwing into fists by his side. What an idiot. 

“Like what? Truthfully? You know better than anyone else here that I  _ was  _ like that. Is that why you called me ‘Captain’ earlier? To try and…  _ convince yourself _ that I’m not some sewer rat anymore?”

His words are coming out shorter and shorter, malice lacing each bitten out syllable. It’s taking every fiber of his being not to resort to beating what he was trying to say into the man, partly to prove a point and partly because it was just  _ so _ much easier than trying to use words with the stubborn bastard.

“No, Levi, that’s not what-”

“I’m not some damsel in distress whose honour you need to defend. Leave me to sort my own shit and maybe think about the corps before your hero complex next time, Commander.”

Having reached his limit of non-physical confrontation, he settles on fixing the man with the most menacing glare his shaking frame can provide (which, in his defence, was pretty damn menacing) before turning around and barging back into the room. He closes the door behind him in the hopes that Erwin takes the hint and just retires for the night, but he knows - you know, with his being the Commander and all - that it is a futile wish, and settles instead for getting as far away from the door as possible before he re-enters.

He should probably take his own advice and just leave, but he isn’t about to wallow in his shitty, overly-decorated room for the night. He needs to get his mind off of it, and alcohol was the only means his brain could supply. Sure, he can never recall a time he’d actually gotten drunk and he’s come to the conclusion that he just can’t, but maybe if he drinks enough his thoughts will get a little bit hazy, and he’ll forget about that trainwreck of a conversation.

The alcohol table is still swarming with teenagers, still vibrating with excitement at the prospect of drinking. He pushes his way through the crowd until he reaches the table, ignoring the still-sobbing Mike currently huddled between it and the wall (as well as the starstruck and slightly horrified cadets watching the second strongest soldier of the Survey Corps have an emotional breakdown), and grabbing an entire jug of the strongest-looking substance he could spot (it was clear, so it was either water or some really strong shit, and whoever was running the refreshments better pray to the Walls it was the strong shit). The crowd - either intimidated by Levi himself or the fact that he had just grabbed a whole jug of alcohol and clearly wasn’t in a fun mood - instantly parts as he walks back out of the swarm and makes a beeline for the spot he had taken sanctuary in earlier. His back hits the wall and he exhales with a huff, bringing the jug to his nose to inspect its contents. Alcohol. Thank fuck.

Honing in on a waiter wandering by, he snatches a glass of a suspiciously bubbly substance from the tray and downs it in one go, using the now-empty glass as a medium for whatever cheap, foul liquid the organizers had supplied to the scouts’ table and his poor stomach lining. The alcohol burns as it slides down his throat but it does nothing to hinder the speed at which he consumes it. In fact, the more it burned the better, maybe the pain was an indicator that he was finally getting drunk and had any chance of momentarily forgetting what an unbelievable idiot the Commander had decided to be tonight.

It’s four glasses and a considerable portion of the jug later that Levi realises he is, in fact, not even slightly drunk. This is also when he realises that the refreshments table is now deathly still - the occupants surrounding it rooted to the ground in a mixture of fear and awe (depending on who you asked), having watched their Captain consume a litre of “strong shit” in under a minute and not show any visible effects. 

Well, as far as first impressions go it isn’t the best, but it’s better than hiding under the table and sobbing uncontrollably. Maybe it was a good thing that he couldn’t get drunk.

He vaguely recalls something Hanji had said that morning, ‘be nice’ or something incredibly dull along those lines, and decides it couldn’t hurt to speak to them or whatever. Formalities.

Pushing himself off of the wall, he observes a dozen or so pairs of eyes widen in apprehension with every step he takes. By the time he is within conversational range they are all so rigid they look like they’re in immense pain. His eyes scan them for a moment before he scoffs, and even that small action makes them flinch.

“What are you idiots so tense for? That kind of posture is a one way trip to death outside the walls.”

He swears he can see a bead of sweat roll down some of their foreheads from how still they’re trying to be, Shadis must’ve drilled a decent amount of fear into them for their reactions to be so over the top. Probably a bunch of shit about decorum when, fundamentally, if you showed maturity in training and respect in front of soldiers, the corps really didn’t give a shit if your foot was half an inch too far to the left - or whatever exaggerated bullshit they were going through in the cadet corps these days (not that he would know, and thank the walls he didn’t have to sit through three years of that hell). 

It was probably better for public opinion if the scouts had a bit of personality anyway, or not, he couldn’t decide what was better: people becoming emotionless soldiers, or people with emotions, personalities, families, being sent out to die a horrible death. Maybe that’s why they were so strict, it was easier to process death if you thought of the soldiers as numbers rather than people.

A boy near the front of the crowd bristles - the one who had dragged away that ravenous girl earlier, he recalls - and raises his head, fists clenched so hard at his side that they turn white.

“W-we apologise, sir. It’s just, y-you’re quite… intimidating?”

Of course he was. Great. So much as coming across as approachable, not that he had been actively trying. Maybe that’s where he was going wrong. 

He tries to oppose this by huffing out in amusement, eyebrows raised in question.

“Is that so?”

Apparently this show of friendship has completely backfired, because it seems being laughed at by Captain Levi has an effect similar to having your dog shot in front of you, if the looks of horror that blooms across their faces is anything to go by. Definitely not the attempt at conversation he was going for.

The boy near the front falters slightly at the response, and stumbles for words before deciding his actions could better excuse himself. His arms come up to his chest in one swift motion and pound against the blazer of his suit ( _ also _ black, he’s really starting to believe his ugly, white suit was a personal attack) with a resounding thump.

“Yes, s-sir! It is an honour to be in the presence of humanity’s strongest soldier, sir!”

The rest of the kids blink at the boy with wide eyes before mirroring his actions, and more thumps echo throughout the room until every cadet in a ten metre radius has their fists over their hearts - with the exception of the scarf girl who seems to have an obsession with Eren, which is a breath of fresh air, if he disregards the murderous scowl she’s directing at him.

It’s mildly daunting to see all of these salutes directed at him, especially with the phrase ‘ _ Humanity’s Strongest Soldier _ ’ behind it. He fights the urge to scowl or scoff at them, to mock their blind worship and loyalty. But, it’s not their fault. He’s not about to shout at a bunch of kids because Erwin decided to piss him off and then justify his actions using the same shitty phrase.

It takes him a moment to rein himself in and push any snarky comments meant for the Commander to the back of his mind, lest he unleash them on an unsuspecting, starry-eyed teenager. He settles for a grimace; that should be Levi enough to not betray his irritation.

“Cut the bullshit. We’re comrades now, there’s no need for any of that.”

They seem to relax slightly at that, though hands stay in place and gazes stay firmly fixed anywhere but on him.

“Yes, sir!”

He fails to suppress a sigh and deflates, any effort to convince the cadets he wasn’t as terrifying as they believed draining out of him. Dropping his gaze to the floor, he contemplates his options for a moment before thrusting the jug of alcohol out towards them. Immediately, several pairs of eyes hone in on the object, albeit less ‘hell-yes-alcohol’ and more ‘why-the-hell-is-captain-levi-offering-us-alcohol?’. The eyes dart between him and his extended hand, as if this was a test of their sobriety and value as a soldier rather than a simple gesture of goodwill.

He lets out a huff and extends his hand again, more insistent.

“Just… here. Training starts tomorrow, you might as well drink as much as you can before everything goes to shit.”

Eyes stare, unblinking, for a few moments before a tall, freckled girl shrugs and reaches out to take the jug. The rest of them stare in shock as she grins and immediately tries to get a small, and equally wide-eyed, blonde girl to drink it. But some of the tension leaves them when Levi doesn’t string her from the ceiling with her ODM gear on the spot, or whatever the hell they thought he was going to do.

From then on, they seem to realise he has no malicious intent and allow themselves to stop saluting. Some of them even resume conversation. Talk about an icebreaker.

He only manages to enjoy a few moments of peace before his least favourite member of the Special Operations Squad decides to show up.

“Captain Levi!”

He hears him first, voice reaching his ears a fraction of a second before he spots a tousle of brown hair at the back of the crowd. It bobs side to side frantically as Eren desperately searches for a path through the cadets, finally prevailing after pushing his way past the freckled girl who is now practically pouring the alcohol down the poor blonde’s throat. The hangovers in the morning are going to be a bitch.

Eren sidles up next to him with wide eyes, and Levi decides he’s officially out of energy for the night because really? Why was he back with more questions and trivial annoyances during what was meant to be his cadet graduation ceremony?

“What do you want, you Suicidal Brat? Don’t I already put up with you enough on the field, now you’re encroaching on my already ruined free time?”

The cadets have once again focused their attention on him, no doubt wondering when their classmate became such an insufferable bastard. He catches a glimpse of scarf girl and reevaluates his thoughts: at least one of those opinions are directed at him.

Eren looks sheepish at the remark, but it does nothing to deter his line of questioning. He gives a slight smile in apology, one that embodies ‘sorry-not-sorry’.

“Sorry, it’s just…” He gestures his hands vaguely, at the Captain and the now almost-empty jug of alcohol that is quickly being consumed.

“How are you not…?”

Levi screws his brows together in confusion. Eren’s cryptic interrogation completely lost on him, as usual. How is he not what? The only thing he’d done tonight was try (and  _ fail _ ) to break the ice with his cadets and drink a shit load of alcohol.

Oh. Right. That’s not normal. His night had gone to shit to the extent that he had completely disregarded the abnormality of his biology (abnormality meaning annoying as fuck in times such as these when he wanted nothing more than to drown his irritation in alcohol), and now the cadets think he's an asshole  _ and  _ a freak. 

Great. That's exactly the first impression he'd set out to make when he stepped into the hall tonight. 

He breathes out a long sigh through his nose and levels his gaze with Jaeger's, completely out of fucks to give at this point.

“I don’t get drunk.”

The younger man's eyes widened in response, as if that wasn't the answer he was expecting - which leads him to wonder what exactly would have qualified as a reasonable answer to him. That he was a Titan in disguise, just like him? Could Eren get drunk, or does whatever weird mutation that permitted his Titan abilities prevent him from becoming intoxicated? Did his advanced healing abilities force the alcohol out of his system before he could become affected by it? Why is he even thinking about this? He’s acting like Hange. 

"What do you mean you don't-”

“Don’t push it, Jaeger.”

He shuts the boy off before he can devolve into useless rambling, partly to prevent any more speculation about the lack of effect of alcoholic substances on his body and partly because he genuinely cannot not muster the willpower to answer any more mind-numbing questions. Eren seems to realise this, finally, and deflates slightly in disappointment. 

Levi is preparing to retort about the stupidity of believing puppy eyes and a pout would ever work on anyone when scarf-girl appears in front of him, eyes simultaneously betraying concern for Eren and a hunger for the blood of whoever had made him sad. Having been effectively proved wrong, he shuts his mouth and blatantly ignores the seething hatred being directed his way. 

His attempts to avoid scarf-girl's gaze bring his eyes to the door of the banquet hall. The door which had just been opened, allowing the entry of a certain blond commander. Said commander surveys the room as he steps further inside until piercing blue eyes meet his and he freezes. 

"Oh, fuck.”

The sudden profanity, although not unexpected from Levi, causes several heads to turn his way out of curiosity. Young, bright eyes blink owlishly at him, though none were as startling as his. 

“Sir?”

A voice calls from somewhere in his vicinity, but he finds he cannot not tear his gaze away from the man who is currently on a hurried mission to approach him - as hurried as one can be in a setting where they are to appear professional and controlled at all times. 

The cadets seem to realize they aren’t getting an answer, and seek their own by following his gaze. This, apparently, only creates more questions because why does the Captain not want to see the Commander? 

Levi decides these questions are better left unanswered. He also decides that Erwin is the last person he wants to see right now. 

Managing to tear his gaze away from the man who is now closing the distance to the point he might not be able to escape in time, he scowls at the group of cadets who look like they're trying to dissect him with their eyes.

“Entertain yourselves; you idiots don’t need a chaperone, and they definitely don’t pay me enough to be yours.”

Sufficient goodbyes said, he turns and makes a beeline for the closest door - eternally thankful in that moment for the mistreatment of the corps, that Erwin has to stop and make polite exchange with every irrelevant rich man who approaches him lest they lose funding. He doesn’t even make it halfway through the masses of people before Levi manages to escape through the side door in the corner of the room.

It leads to a wing of the castle he doesn’t recognise in the slightest but he can’t bring himself to care, dragging the bolt across the latch before leaning against the door to let out a breath of relief, allowing himself to relax for the first time since he’d stepped into the hall. He counts his breaths in an attempt to calm his pulse, which he hadn’t realised was racing in his haste to leave.

He doesn’t even get to ten before a thump sounds from the other side of the wood, reverberating through his body with the force. Apparently Erwin hadn’t expected him to lock the door. The handle rattles for a moment, and he can hear his heavy sigh as he relents and releases his grip on the handle.

“Levi.”

His voice is pleading, and close. Way too close. He had not taken the time to evaluate the consequences of leaning against the door: namely that when someone presses their head against the door in order to hear what’s happening on the other side, there are less than three inches of distance between you. He tenses up almost painfully as Erwin continues speaking, voice travelling through the wood so profoundly that he can  _ feel  _ it.

“Levi,  _ please _ .”

The word sounds utterly foreign coming out of his mouth, and yet so raw and vulnerable that he feels his resolve begin to crack. He almost reaches for the lock before he manages to get a hold of himself, pushing aside the mental rant on how easily he’d been manipulated in favour of distancing himself from the door before he can execute any of his stupid decisions.

Maybe it had been an over-reaction, but he has a right to be mad at Erwin. He had been willing to put the Corps in jeopardy because he thought Levi was some maiden in need of defending. It was both an insult to him, who had worked to build a reputation since the Underground, and to the Corps, who were so easily dismissed by their own Commander. It would be more tolerable if he could figure why he had done it. Erwin Smith was a man renowned for the immaculate control he had over his emotions - willing to send countless men to their deaths with an untroubled heart if he knew it would benefit the cause. So why had he lost his composure over something so trivial?

Levi’s head begins to throb at the thought, and he knows better than to chalk it up to the effect of too much alcohol. He was exhausted. Being at the party itself had been draining enough, and the additional stress of Erwin had amounted to his limbs feeling like lead. 

He pulls himself out of his thoughts to the realisation that the throbbing in his head was, in fact, a result of Erwin now pounding (or, as loud as one could pound on a door while seeming inconspicuous to the public eye) on the door. It is at this moment that Levi decides he is completely and utterly done with any sort of social interaction for the night. The silk bed upstairs is becoming more and more a necessity than a want, and if he doesn’t get there soon he is seriously considering just finding the nearest storage cupboard and passing out in there.

With a sigh he practically rolls himself over so his head is pressing against the door and lays a palm flat against it. The knocking stops, as if Erwin is expecting him to open the door, and he sighs again. A long, exhaling breath that was meant to be frustration but comes out as one born of fatigue.

“Erwin, I just…” His hand clenches into a fist against the door and he squeezes until he’s sure the blood flow to his fingertips has ceased. “I can’t deal with this. Not tonight.”

He can hear how he deflates on the other side of the door, clothes ruffling as his posture slumps in a huffed release of air.

Not giving him chance to respond in fear that he might say something to convince him otherwise, he pushes himself away from the door and starts down the unfamiliar corridor. If he says anything further he doesn’t hear it, any noise coming from inside the hall bleeding into an unintelligible hum the more distance he puts between it and him. He finds that the throbbing in his head relents slightly as he climbs a winding set of stairs, the halls so profoundly quiet that there is nothing to agitate his headache but the sound of his footsteps against the polished floors.

It takes him a torturously long time to find his way back to the sleeping quarters thanks to the use of his escape route, and by the time he recognises the vaguely familiar hallway containing his room he almost cries out in relief. His head is pounding and his arms feel like they’re weighed down by concrete blocks and when he finally pushes open the door he has to practically drag himself over to the bed.

It takes an age and a considerable amount of effort to pry his shoes off his feet, so when it comes to his clothes he tugs off his ugly blazer and calls it a night. It falls to the floor in a graceless heap and Levi follows suit, practically collapsing onto the bed and is out cold as soon as his head hits the pillow. He’d deal with the fallout tomorrow, but right now he is physically unable to do anything that requires him to be conscious.

He falls into a fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angst in the second chapter? more likely than you think.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi knows he is only opening with casual conversation to ease the transition into a discussion about the previous night, but he takes the bait anyway. He feels forsaken by the small corner of his mind that revels in the normalcy.

Levi wakes up to darkness - as is custom, given how little he sleeps. What  _ isn’t  _ custom, however, is the change in environment. Consequently, when he rubs his eyes and reaches for the clock on his nightstand, it isn’t there. Instead, there is empty space, which he gracelessly falls into, too groggy to do anything other than think, “oh”.

The crash echoes with a thunderous bang, and he desperately tries to console himself with the hopes that no one else in the building is an insomniac who would be up at this ungodly hour. He doesn’t know what he’d do if anyone came to check on him, but killing them so there’d be no witnesses seems pretty high up his list.

He lies on the floor for a few moments - to try and process the humiliation of having just fallen out of bed - before he stretches his arms and his hand touches what might as well be a blanket of dust under the bed, and he springs to his feet as if he had been burned with a hot iron. 

_ Stupid Sinans can flaunt their money building unnecessary palaces but can't even keep them clean?  _ he thinks to himself, sneering.  _ Hange's room is cleaner and you can't even see the floor under all the research papers.  _

Even though he'd scrubbed his fingers profusely on his dress pants in an attempt to rid them of the dust, they still itch with the memory, so he decides to take the liberty of a second hot bath. Call it reparations for the public humiliation he had to endure yesterday in the form of that disgusting suit. 

He spares the offensive item in question a glance over his shoulder as he makes his way into the bathroom, crumpled into a sad heap on the floor, and decides it doesn't need moving - it can stay where it belongs, neglected, gathering dust. 

He tries to savour the heat of the bath but, once again, the water eventually turns cold and he no longer has use of it. He sighs, pulling the plug and sitting dejectedly, watching the once-hot water disappear down the drain. 

He contemplates running another one just to piss off the Sinans but he doubts they'd even notice the difference, and his skin is starting to shrivel up. 

At least the towels are soft, in comparison to the ones back at base that feel like sandpaper against his skin. He'd bought his own one with his salary when he'd gone into town one time, but he'd come back from a particularly gruesome expedition once and used it without thinking. Blood doesn't come out of white cloth easily. 

A spare towel hangs on a rack in the corner of the room: fresh, soft, unused. He contemplates stealing it. He does. 

The towel slips inconspicuously into his bag (one every soldier has to store any personal belongings during long-distance trips. Levi has next to none, so his is practically empty), and he ties it shut with a look of satisfaction. At least he'd gained  _ something  _ from this God-awful trip. 

The sun is peeking above the horizon now, and the sounds of human activity are audible from the surrounding rooms. He will be expected in the courtyard soon, to account for the new Scouts before they depart back to base. 

Slipping on his gear straps and cloak brings an overwhelming comfort and sense of normality that he hadn't realised he'd been missing up until that moment. The events of the past night had been so jarring that being able to slip back into routine was a breath of relief. He knew what he was doing now. He had orders to follow, and he wasn't feeling around blindly trying to figure out what the hell was going on. 

Yet, he finds he cannot completely relax. Though he's pretty certain he knows the root of that problem. 

The courtyard isn't bustling but it's more busy than he thought it'd be at this time of the morning. He would think the soldiers would be desperate to spend as long as they could in the capital, holding up in their rooms or wandering the palace until the last moment, but it seems many of them are lined up ready to leave. Maybe they, too, had discovered the copious dust piles under the beds. 

He spots the carriages for the Survey Corps and makes his way over, catching sight of the squad leaders slumped in front of the nearest one. They look like shit. Mike and Nanaba are most definitely hung over - clutching their heads and screwing their eyes shut as tightly as possible, grumbling irritably - and Hange is, well, Hange. The only noticeable difference is that they seem to squint every once in a while when they face the sun, but other than that they seem to be their usual, annoying self. 

Exhibit A.

"Levi!" 

Levi is eternally thankful for his inability to become hungover, because he's sure if he had to hear that voice grating on his ears this early in the morning  _ as well as  _ a splitting headache he would've already started swinging. The two unfortunate squad leaders who  _ are  _ hungover wince at the sudden eruption of noise, clutching their heads as if Hange's voice had split their skulls in half - which he supposes is exactly what it feels like. 

He sighs, "Four-eyes. Want to shout any louder for these poor cadets at the ass-crack of dawn?" 

Hange merely spares the cadets in question a glance - not even registering their pained expressions - before disregarding them and flashing Levi a wide grin. 

"Good morning, Sleepyhead!" 

Levi scowls.

"I will ram my blades so far down your throat they come out the other end."

As usual, they are undeterred, maybe even encouraged. He has come to realise that Hange probably does this just to get a rise out of him. 

"It seems your beauty sleep has done nothing to brighten up your mood."

Yep. That's definitely the case. If only he was mature enough to ignore them instead of retaliating with every insult under the sun. Though, he doubts they'd give up if he started ignoring them, so he was probably doing himself a favour by not being the bigger person. 

"Maybe if you hadn't left me with a bunch of teenagers while you went and got drunk I wouldn't  _ be  _ in such a shitty mood."

Hange's grin only widens. 

"I had a  _ wonderful  _ time, thank you for asking."

He levels her with a glare. Had they ingested something last night whose effects were still active? They seemed intent on provoking him, even more so than usual. 

"Have you got a death wish, Shitty Glasses?" 

They let out a snort of laughter, shaking their head. Apparently they'd decided the act had gone far enough and given up. He'd pay a good deal of his salary to work out what the hell was going on in that Titan Freak's head, they were completely unpredictable.

"Come on, Levi, relax. Besides, it's not like I left you completely alone. Erwin was there, wasn't he?" 

The change of tone was so sudden he almost misses what they'd said, but the mention of Erwin's name grips his attention like a vice and he stiffens uncomfortably, averting his gaze. 

Shit. That wasn't suspicious at all. 

Hange immediately notices this change is demeanor and cocks their head, expression changing from one of amusement to confusion, borderlining concern. 

"What was that look for? Did you two fight or something?" 

Despite that being exactly the case, Levi lets himself be offended at the accusation. How dare they accuse him, Captain of the Survey Corps, of doing something as petty and immature as fighting, with the Commander no less. 

He reinitiates eye contact just to shoot them an irritated look. 

"No we didn't-" 

Before he can finish lying the man in question strolls into the courtyard, looking the exact opposite of how Levi feels right now: calm, composed, definitely not having an internal mental breakdown. 

He spots the Scouts and flashes them a warm smile as he approaches them. The new Scouts, who had immediately noticed his arrival, salute and remain unmoving even as he comes to a stop in front of them. 

Crossing his arms behind his back, he surveys the crowd of people in the area designated for their regiment. His gaze is unfaltering as it sweeps across familiar and unfamiliar faces, excluding the split second it crosses his and they make eye contact, during which a conflicted expression flashes across his face. It is so fleeting it's almost impossible to see, unless you were looking for it. 

Which Hange was. 

Erwin straightens his posture and addresses the new Scouts, "Good morning, everyone." 

Hange practically buzzes with excitement beside him. Of course they were; if their obsession with titans wasn't so all-consuming he's sure workplace conflict would be their main hobby. 

They lean close in order to whisper without disrupting the Commander. 

"You are telling me when we get back."

Levi scoffs in disbelief, jabbing an elbow sharply sideways to remove them from his personal space. They're clearly still under the effects of some type of alcohol if they thought he would willingly start confiding in them about petty conflicts. 

"Like hell I am."

Hange only smirks before turning their attention back to the Commander, who is now pointedly not looking in their direction, instead fixing his gaze on the no-longer-Cadets. Probably not the best idea, given they're currently shaking like leaves under the intense scrutiny. 

"I hope you all had a pleasant evening at the party. Unfortunately, due to our current situation, that was the extent of the welcome ceremony. We must return to business immediately."

Levi watches the backs of some heads as they droop in disappointment at the news, while the shoulders of others hunch up in fear as the revelation sets in. They're members of the Survey Corps now. Once they get back to headquarters they'll begin training for the upcoming expedition, to fight titans (either as returning soldiers from trost or as fresh-faced recruits, and he can't tell which is more terrifying), to risk their lives. 

He just hopes none of them were wishing they'd chosen the Garrison or the Military Police, the worst thing they could do was have regrets. 

Erwin doesn't miss the mixed reactions of the crowd before him and offers a small smile of sympathy. After all, they were one of the only Cadet classes who'd had to have their initiation ceremonies cut short due to the threat of the titans. What were the chances the Wall was breached the day before the choosing ceremony? These poor kids had some terrible luck on their side. 

Not to mention they were being thrown straight into intensive training so that they'd be even half way ready to face the titans by the time the expedition rolled around. It would be cruel of them to not sympathise. 

"The wagons have been prepared. We will now depart and return to the Survey Corps Headquarters in Trost."

He briefly motions towards the wagons in question, and heads incline slightly to follow his gesture. Levi looks at the wagons. They don't look very hygienic. Maybe he'd walk back, that way he'd be able to avoid an unsanitary wagon ride  _ and  _ Erwin for the week it took him to walk from Mitras to Trost. 

"We have four wagons. Please distribute yourselves equally among them. Hange, Mike, Nanaba; please take a wagon each to watch over the scouts. Levi. You're with me."

Or not. He barely conceals the look of surprise that threatens to show, turning to face the Commander who had, not even a minute ago, refused to meet his eye. Though, he supposes it is to be expected, given his persistence the evening before (and in general).

The last thing he wants to do is share a wagon with the man he’d had quite an embarrassing fight with less than twenty four hours before, especially considering the ride back to trost was by no means a short one. So, he makes a (quite frankly, pathetic) last ditch attempt to escape the situation.

"I'll ride with Nanaba."

The aforementioned woman does not register his plea for help further than a questioning turn of her head at the mention of her name, followed by a non-committal, hungover grunt. Traitor.

It was a fruitless attempt regardless - as Erwin had immediately caught on - and he sends him a firm, fed up glare which Levi is unfortunate enough to receive the full effects of as he turns away from Nanaba’s retreating form, unprepared. Piercing blue eyes infiltrate his line of sight and he almost flinches from the sudden 180 in the other man’s willingness the make eye contact.

"Levi."

He considers retaliating again, but he can’t afford to make a scene in front of the new recruits. Coming across as childish in front of the soldiers you’d be personally training within the next few hours wasn’t exactly a wise choice. Plus, he knows Erwin would win the petty argument in the end, which would be even more humiliating.

So, instead, he huffs and kicks his boot at the gravel in frustration.

"Fine."

A small smile graces the Commander’s face as he steps back to offer Levi first entry into the wagon. He takes it, but not without grumbling under his breath on the way past so that his distaste for the situation was clearly conveyed. This, however, does not provoke the desired outcome, as his smile only grows. He even throws in a scowl, but to no effect.

He tosses his bag onto a bench as he gets on, startling the unfortunate recruits sharing the wagon who had been eyeing him warily as he’d entered. He spares a thought to offer them sympathy. This was going to be a considerably awkward journey - which would likely be spent in suffocating silence, because Levi wasn’t planning on talking, and he knew the five trembling scouts sitting across from him would sooner face a titan than risk pissing him off.

Regardless, he does not lessen his intimidating posture as he sits cross-legged on the bench, arms folded and face smoldering with suppressed irritation. He does, however, refrain from directing his gaze towards the scouts. After all, he was doing this to try and annoy Erwin, not to scare the shit out of new soldiers (he was even trying extra hard to be nice to them this year, and he wouldn’t want to destroy an entire hour of progress).

It was simply infuriating how calm and composed and utterly  _ oblivious _ to his idiocy the Commander was being in this situation. How come Levi had to be the one to lose his cool in an attempt to get the point through his head, while he remained as stubborn and unchanging as ever?

The man himself follows soon after, stepping onto the wagon with seamless grace, and Levi has to turn away in fear that he might resort to punching him just to evoke a reaction other than indifference and tranquility. Instead, he busies himself with a scuff mark on his boot (the product of taking out his frustrations on the ground), cursing under his breath and scrubbing a thumb against it angrily.

He is all too aware of the increasing proximity between him and the Commander as he takes up his place next to him, but chooses to ignore it in favour of setting a relentless pace in removing the scuff mark. Maybe plain ignorance was the way to go to avoid - or at least prevent for as long as humanly possible - the inevitable conversation waiting to be sprung on him.

After what felt like ten minutes, but was likely a minute at most - because he’s pretty sure the scouts can’t hold their breaths in an attempt to stay deathly still for that long - he is jolted from his rhythm as the horses begin moving. Meaning: he is now officially stuck with Erwin for the next few hours, unless he wants to jump out of a moving wagon (which does sound preferable, if he’s honest).

The disruption to his routine allows him to catch a glimpse of the scuff mark and realise that he is, in fact, making it worse. With a huff of frustration, he uncrosses his legs and leans back in his seat, turning his head to ensure Erwin doesn’t see his lack of activity as an invitation to conversation.

Spying his bag, he quickly grabs hold of it in the hopes there is something inside that can serve as a distraction - or, best case scenario, a knife to stab himself with so he can  _ permanently  _ avoid the conversation.

However, his brain quickly supplies him with the fact that his bag is virtually empty due to his lack of personal belongings. A knife  _ would have  _ been among his limited possessions, but bringing a weapon into the interior - a city rampant with entitled pigs who were foaming at the mouth for a chance to prove Levi was still the Underground rat he once had been - was an express ticket out of the Survey Corps and straight back down.

Thus, his bag is devastatingly devoid of any distractions. His shoulders slump in disappointment.

A fatal mistake, he soon realises, as the action draws the attention of the blond man next to him, gaze drawn curiously first to his face before landing on the bag in his lap. He tilts his head inquisitively at it, as if puzzling through an inconsistency mentally, before looking back to his eye level.

“Your bag is more full than it was when we arrived.”

It’s more a question than a statement. Erwin was inquiring into what he had stolen.

Levi knows he is only opening with casual conversation to ease the transition into a discussion about the previous night, but he takes the bait anyway. He feels forsaken by the small corner of his mind that revels in the normalcy.

With a small huff that betrays his amusement, he flips the bag and fiddles with its buckles before pulling it open to reveal the white, cotton towel, folded and placed neatly inside. Erwin glances at it before a smile breaks out onto his face and he chuckles, turning away to shake his head in disbelief. Watching his expression, Levi finds he can’t restrain the smirk that threatens to show and turns away in kind, mad at himself for not being able to be mad at Erwin in that moment. 

The scouts opposite them watch in an unsettled confusion at the sudden change in atmosphere, but are grateful, regardless, that the Captain no longer has the expression of a man on the verge of exploding. They don’t know if this means they’re permitted to talk, but none of them are willing to test that theory.

The Commander glances back at him and his smile falters, a sadness seeping into his eyes like ink on wet paper, the startling blue of his irises becoming almost glassy with emotion. Levi has to physically stop himself from flinching at the rawness of his gaze, his own eyes widening in terror. 

Why is he looking at him like that? Nervousness claws at his insides with a fervour, and his mouth is suddenly devoid of any moisture. 

Erwin studies him with his terrifying gaze for a moment longer before his posture slumps and he sighs. 

“Levi. I’m sorry, I-”

“It’s fine. Just- don’t do it again.”

He responds instantly, cutting him off. The quicker the conversation is over the better - anything to escape the look on Erwin's face that is so utterly vulnerable he feels like he's suffocating under its weight. 

Mouth clamping shut, he lowers his head slightly but doesn’t give any confirmation that he will actually  _ heed _ his advice. Levi knows the ambiguous lack of response will only come back to bite him in the ass, will no doubt be used in a witty remark - along the lines of ‘I never  _ agreed  _ with you’ or something else infuriatingly petty - if he ended up doing it again.

Levi sighs, and resists the urge to start scrubbing at his boot again just to have something, anything, to do other than partake in this conversation. Instead, he curls his hands into tight fists on his lap and, once again, meets the crumpled face of the man sitting next to him. His gaze falters and he feels his eyebrows twitch in desperation to display emotion - and if his face  _ were _ to do so, he’s sure that emotion would be terror.

“ _ Please _ . I- you can’t put a burden like that on me. You can’t take risks for me, or  _ because _ of me, if it puts us in jeopardy.”

His voice drops to barely a whisper, and he tells himself it’s so that it doesn’t reach the ears of the teenagers sitting across from them (or, at least, make it clear they shouldn’t be listening in, given that they’re less than three feet away and it is virtually impossible for a word to go unheard by any of them), but he knows it’s because he doesn’t even want Erwin hearing it.

Erwin has the decency to look slightly guilty at that, and his eyebrows screw together in contemplation. But, Levi’s hopes for a mutual understanding are quickly crushed when he, as stubborn as ever, rushes to defend himself.

“It’s not like-”

He expects his blood to begin boiling underneath his skin at the Commander’s persistence regarding the matter, but he finds he just feels tired. It is clear he has no intention of changing his standpoint, and he expects this ideology will remain in place if he encounters similar situations in the future (which is likely - a lot of people despise Levi). He supposes the best he can do is just be there personally to prevent it; there was no stopping Erwin doing something if he had already decided on it.

It was worth a try, though.

“I don’t need an explanation, I just need you to promise me. Promise me you won’t do anything like that.”

They stare at each other for a long moment - during which he is sure he doesn’t breathe, if the sudden tightness in his chest is any indication. Eventually, Erwin seems to come to a decision (after some considerable internal conflict, he guesses, given the plethora of emotions he’d witnessed reflected in blue), and he gives a small smile, whispering,

“I promise, Levi.”

Despite not being the one to talk, he feels as though the breath had been stolen from his lungs the moment the blond man had uttered the words. A strange feeling curls in his chest and he turns away, scoffing,

“Good.”

A quiet settles over the wagon for a moment - one which is so much less suffocating without the unbearable weight of an unsolved disagreement looming over the two of them like a brewing storm - and he allows himself to be lulled into a near-tranquil state by the constant, steady rumbling of wooden wheels along gravel and the rhythmic clopping of horse hooves.

The tranquility is broken by the realisation that ten pairs of eyes are desperately trying to look anywhere but at the two officials of the Survey Corps in front of them, in an attempt to seem as inconspicuous and unawkward as possible. Levi knew damn well they had heard every word of their interaction, it was impossible not to, but they didn’t need to be so fucking weird about it.

He jerks his head up to level them with an unimpressed stare, not missing the way four of the five practically jump out of their seats at the sudden address.

“Why aren’t you brats talking? You’re like goddamn statues.”

It seems to take them at least a minute to process the words that had just left his mouth, and they turn to look at each other with wide eyes. He didn’t know what they had expected him to say. Probably threats of murder if they ever spoke a word of what they had heard outside of the wagon, even though all they’d heard was a compromise for an incident they weren’t even aware had taken place.

One of the recruits, a bald-headed boy he recognises from the party, takes the initiative and speaks up, though not without stuttering - his hand even twitches as if trying to salute.

“A-ah, sorry Captain.”

They begin quiet conversation, so timid he feels like just breathing will shatter it like glass. He suppresses a smirk and shakes his head.

“Tsk. Idiots.”

Erwin is looking at him strangely: eyes alight with emotion, yet nothing like the melancholy he had witnessed earlier. Where those eyes had been the blue of a lonely, darkening sky, these were the blue of the water in the lakes and rivers. Yet, he feels those dull bodies of water could not hold a candle to his eyes. 

He imagines the ocean, and all he had heard about it: how it stretched so far that it seemed endless, disappearing into the horizon. He imagined how the sun would reflect on it, like it did in the canals within Wall Rose, but there were no mossy, concrete walls to restrict its beauty, only a shimmering expanse that glittered like stars as far as the eye could see. 

Levi has never seen the ocean, but he thinks that it would look like Erwin’s eyes.

He doesn’t realise he had been staring, lost in thought, until one of the recruits barks out a laugh at something one of the others had said. He almost jerks back in shock from the sudden return to reality, and the fact that he’d been looking into his Commander’s eyes for at least a solid minute.

He doesn’t reprimand the recruits for being idiots, mostly because he’s thankful they saved him from whatever the fuck had been going on in his head.

Erwin is still watching him, but his expression has changed from indecipherable to inquisitive, his head tilted slightly. Levi goes rigid under his gaze, feeling as though he’d been caught out, and looks down to hide the embarrassed flush he can feel crawling up his neck.

“Why are you looking at me like that? I’m not giving the towel back, if that’s what you were going to say.”

The Commander looks as though he considers pursuing what had just transpired, but seems to decide against it. His expression changes, and the emotion in his eyes seems to become veiled, closed off, and a guarded smile, though genuine, appears in its place.

“I’m sure they can spare one towel.”

He doesn’t know why he feels slightly better about stealing the towel - not that he had been guilty in the slightest in the first place - knowing Erwin approved, but he decides not to dwell on it.

Instead, he focuses on the warmth that blooms in his chest at the normalcy of their conversation. He might not have agreed with what Erwin had done, but he decides having to keep a closer eye on him in future to make sure it doesn’t happen again is a worthy exchange for not fighting with him.

It was infuriating how unaffected he seemed by these things, but his eyes had betrayed his emotion, if only for a moment. And now, Levi finds he cannot stay resentful - at him or those terrifyingly beautiful eyes.

On second thoughts, maybe he shouldn’t dwell on that bit either.

“Damn right they can. There were  _ four  _ in my bathroom.  _ Four! _ I don’t think I’ve owned four towels in my life!”

The man next to him chuckles, not bothering to hide his amused grin as he watches Levi express his strong opinions about the upper class’ access to soft towels.

“Why are you laughing? Oh, nevermind, I just realised you wouldn’t understand, Sina boy.”

He has the gall to look shocked for a second, but only a second, before he abandons the expression in favour of shaking his head fondly.

“My apologies. If it’s any consolation, we only ever owned two at one time.”

Levi scowls to cover up the smirk that threatens to appear, but the amusement in his voice cannot be covered up.

“No, actually, it’s not. If there were two people in your house, you should’ve had a minimum of three. You could’ve at least used that horrendous wealth on something useful, like personal hygiene.”

Erwin laughs then, heartily, and the sound reverberates throughout him like wind through a hollow rock. It whistles through him, rattling his very core and he has to pause to catch the air that had left his lungs along with it.

Against his own better judgement, he  _ does _ dwell on this, and he decides that, maybe, he likes talking to Erwin like this.

And so, he does. For the rest of the wagon ride home, they talk - and with every passing remark and joke they poke at each other he finds it increasingly difficult to stay angry with the man.

By the time they make it back to Trost it’s as if the incident that had taken place the night before had never occurred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update :(( i was planning on updating once a week but i was really busy this week so it was late :(( i will try and keep to weekly updates though :))
> 
> also tysm for all the love this has gotten so far! ily all and your comments are such motivation so thank you! :')
> 
> this weeks chapter is unbetad because i wanted to get it out as quickly as possible for you guys so i apologise for any mistakes and i will look back through and edit later if there are :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Why? Would you have wanted to?"

They arrive at Trost around midday, the last of the morning frost crunching under their boots as they depart from the wagon.

The ride had been filled with pleasant conversation during their journey, so the silence of the courtyard - waiting with bated breath as the Commander emerges - is a stark contrast. The scuff of boots on gravel and the rustle of clothes are the only audible sounds. As Erwin exits the wagon the echoing thumps of fists hitting chests resound throughout the vicinity.

He acknowledges them with a nod before standing with his arms folded behind his back, surveying the crowd of new recruits. Levi follows the movement of his hands and watches as he drags his nail across his thumb absently as he talks. Had he always done that?

“Welcome to Trost Headquarters. This is where you’ll live during your time as a scout so, please, feel free to relax slightly. There is no need to stand to attention every time you see one of us, unless we are addressing you. This is your home now, please do your best to feel comfortable.”

A scout in his peripheral vision drops his salute at the words, and an elbow is suddenly jabbed into his ribs by the boy standing next to him.

“ _ Dude _ ! He’s literally addressing us  _ now _ !”

“ _ Shit _ !”

His hands fumble to quickly return to the salute, and Levi has to fight back a smirk - he doesn’t suppose it would set a good example to laugh at misconduct while standing next to the Commander himself.

Said Commander pauses his speech for a moment to check his watch, and only then does Levi realise he’d been constantly watching his hands given he follows the action. His arm pauses in front of his chest before returning to its place behind his back, and the thumb returns to running along his skin. Erwin’s nails are well-manicured, especially for a man in charge of a regiment of soldiers who practically embodied filth. He doesn’t know why he hadn’t noticed it before. With the amount of times he’d been handed something by him - a letter, a cup of tea, a dropped handkerchief - he’s sure there must’ve been some point in which he’d looked at his hands. So, why now was it suddenly a point of interest?

“We have arrived just in time for lunch, so the other Scouts will show you to your rooms to drop off any luggage before you make your way to the mess hall. Dismissed.”

The scouts quickly disperse - thoughts clouded by the prospect of food - and Erwin spins on his heel to face Levi. The sudden loss of visual on his hands shocks him out of his head and he looks up at the Commander’s face, train of thought so utterly derailed he can’t begin to process what question he might ask.

“Shall we?”

It takes him an embarrassingly long time to process the words that had just left Erwin’s mouth, and even longer to formulate a coherent response. What the hell was wrong with him today? He turns his head to the side with a scowl, avoiding eye contact.

“I need to drop off my shit first.”

Erwin only nods, content.

“Of course.”

He nods back, as if to signal the end of the conversation so he could internally rant at himself on his own. When Erwin makes no move to leave, however, he tenses and turns to him with a raised eyebrow. The man was simply standing with his hands behind his back, blinking owlishly at him with a small smile on his face. Levi’s scowl deepens.

“What? You gonna go with me or something?”

Erwin looks down at his feet and then back to Levi with an inquisitive look, as if confirming that he was, in fact, waiting there and therefore the answer should be obvious. When it becomes clear that this is not the case he nods, cocking his head slightly with a furrowed brow.

“I don’t see why not. Besides, my room is next door to yours and I  _ do  _ have belongings of my own to put back. Unless you’d like me to go on my own?”

The sudden question startles him, and he ducks his head in a desperate attempt to hide the sudden pang of disappointment he feels at the thought of going alone after the alternative had been offered. Besides, it was only practical if they went together. Their rooms  _ were  _ next to each other, so what was the point in going separately if they were headed to the same destination?

Levi, of course, does not say this. He was not one to make excuses, especially when those excuses were made to justify spending more time with someone, and  _ especially  _ when that someone had already spent the last six hours sitting less than a metre away from him. It was rather pathetic of him, really.

“Tch, whatever.”

Dignity successfully retained, he turns and walks towards the barracks, leaving the decision up to Erwin, whether he should follow or not (though he hoped it was the former). As expected - and to the great relief of a traitorous corner of his mind - not even a second later he hears steady footsteps in tow. Despite Levi’s speed, Erwin’s much longer legs allow him to quickly catch up, and soon they are walking side by side - and he can’t decide if he should smile or scowl at the realisation that the taller man had now significantly slowed his pace so that they could stay in line with each other.

He goes with the safer option of neither, and fights to keep his expression blank - instead, he distracts himself by staring at their feet, watching as their steps fall into each other and they begin to walk simultaneously. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot. The rhythm is almost calming.

The barracks are overflowing with people and noise as they enter, buzzing with the excitement of the new recruits as they claim bunks and pick roommates. Two boys are practically wrestling for the top bunk of one of the beds, and upon spotting the Commander and Captain one of them practically somersaults onto the floor. The remaining scout claims victory and proceeds to childishly mock the other from his higher vantage point.

In another room, a freckled girl is furiously defending the bottom bunk of her bed, glaring daggers at anyone who dares approach her with the intention of claiming it. A blonde girl walks in and her eyes immediately light up, moving up off of the bed almost instantly to beckon her over.

He turns his head away from the scene, looking at his feet with feigned interest. It seems that, even after all these years, the sight of new recruits looking excitedly at their rooms was enough to cause a lump in his throat. Sure, these kids’ eyes were filled with the awe of finally becoming a soldier than that of finally having a place to call your own above the surface, but the similarities were still present enough to make his stomach churn. If he looked to the left now, he’d see Farlan’s bunk, currently occupied by a starry-eyed teenager who’d likely meet the same fate by winter’s end.

He breathes out a sigh of relief when they get to the officers’ quarters, a place so often frequented that there is no room for past memories to manifest.

Stopping in front of his door, he finds himself waiting for Erwin to register his absence before entering. He either seems to notice this, or has the same thought, because he pauses his continued journey to his own room at the end of the hall to turn and face him, smiling and nodding gently before turning back and disappearing through his door. Levi stands still for a few moments longer, hand resting on the door knob, staring vacantly at the space where the other man had just been. He seems to be lost in thought, but his mind yields nothing but static - his brain seeming to have short-circuited.

It takes a good second of fumbling, hand twisting the doorknob uselessly in an attempt to open the door while his brain refuses to cooperate in letting him look anywhere but where Erwin was standing a moment ago, to finally get into his room. Once the door is out of his sight it's as though he's been pulled out of a dream-like trance, his mind being able to conjure nothing more than '???' as an explanation for whatever the fuck had just happened. 

He brushes it off as exhaustion, even though he had gotten his standard three hours of sleep this morning, and digs the heels of his palms into his eyes for good measure. 

The bed is just as he had left it - perfectly made, not a single crease - and he nods in satisfaction at its state before approaching it. It had become a post-travel routine to do so after he had returned once to find his duvet a dishevelled mess on the floor, and his pillow cases missing. He had eventually identified the culprit as Hange, who had apparently stolen them to "run tests on his DNA" and decided the best course of action was to gather hair samples from his bed. Granted, it wasn't like he would've given them any if they'd asked, but he still made sure to make very clear the consequences if they were to try and pull off a stunt like that again. If threats of grievous bodily harm were included, that was nobody's business. 

Even if Hange had come with them this time, he wouldn't be surprised if they had recruited some poor rookie to do their bidding in their absence. 

He almost tosses his practically-empty bag into the corner of the room before realising his newly acquired possession was inside. Levi would be an idiot if he left a towel of such high quality in a cheap leather bag, so he pulls it back to his chest and walks over to the bed, swiftly flipping it upside down and dumping its contents onto the white sheets. 

Other than the towel - which had become a crumpled mess thanks to being stowed away in a confined space, he realises with a frown - there is barely anything in the bag. A handkerchief, a worn book titled "Classic Fairytale Stories", and two cut-out Survey Corps patches. The last two items he takes out of no necessity other than the comfort their proximity brings him. A reminder of his mother, and of Isabel and Farlan. 

He supposes the patches were quite a grim reminder of those two, but when they'd left the underground he realised he could only smuggle one thing out with him, and so he chose the book his mother had given him the birthday before she passed. 

'I don't need reminders of Isabel and Farlan', he had told himself, 'they're coming with me'. 

But that had been short-lived, and now all he has left of them are pieces of the uniform of the profession they'd been forced into, that had been the cause of their deaths. 

To live a life without regrets. That had been the ideal he had been living by since that day, but no matter how much he repeats the mantra he can't escape the reality that comes crawling back at night. The night they'd looked at the stars, and he told them he trusted them. How is he meant to have no regrets when he had sent them to their deaths? When, if he had just said no, they would've found an excuse to skip the expedition. He would've killed Erwin Smith alone, and they would all be living on the surface together now. How is he meant to have no regrets when every time he closes his eyes he can see lifeless eyes staring back at him: the detached head of Isabel as he lands in front of it, covered in blood; the limp body of Farlan, severed at the torso and spat out, dropping to the ground like a ragdoll. And it was all his fault, because he had left them behind. 

They had died in vain. He couldn't even finish the mission. He could not kill Squad Leader Smith because he was weak, and because Erwin Smith didn't deserve to die.

He doesn't realise he's gripping onto the patches until the rough cotton of the stitching begins to irritate his hands. He lets go of them at once, watching them fall to the bed with wide eyes as he realises he thoughts had been spiralling again. Part of the reason why he keeps the patches in the bag is so he doesn't have to look at them, which he had neglected to remember before emptying it's contents into plain sight. 

With shaking hands he picks them up and stuffs them back into the bottom of the bag - doing the same with the book, which he doesn't dare spare another glance lest he delve into other memories he really doesn't want brought up right now - and drops it to the floor before kicking it under the bed. 

Now that the objects are out of sight, he lets out a shaky exhale in an attempt to relax before picking up the towel to distract himself. It's creased from the journey but still unbelievably soft, and white as the snow. He was going to have to wash it carefully so it didn't feel like sandpaper before the end of the week. Maybe he'd wash it in his bath, despite his authority as Captain and overall terrifying aura he wouldn't put it past desperate, 'towel-induced rash' suffering soldiers to try and steal it if he were to bring it to the communal laundry rooms. 

Holding the towel up in front of him, he begins to fold it. After the third, delicately-lined fold he feels an odd sensation at the base of his neck, like he's being watched, and he instinctively turns to the door to see Erwin leaning against it nonchalantly, arms crossed. From his stance, he looks like he'd been there a while, yet there was no indication he was planning to interrupt. He'd just been watching. Levi sincerely hopes he hadn't seen him holding the patches. 

They make eye contact, and Erwin's expression remains the same, except for an eyebrow raise, as he briefly looks at the still-suspended towel before looking back at him. Levi scowls slightly before turning away and resuming his folding. 

“What? I didn’t steal a fancy ass towel to leave it rotting in some bag.”

A huffed laugh sounds from the doorway, and he knows without having to look there’s that soft smile gracing the Commander’s lips, the one that seems to be appearing more and more frequently lately. He resists the urge to turn to catch a glimpse of it - finding the show of vulnerability utterly baffling and yet simultaneously intriguing no matter how many times he sees it - and pulls too hard at a corner of the towel so that he has something to focus his attention on.

There is a rustle of clothing as Erwin shifts his position, and then the sound of footsteps as he approaches the bed. He stops a few feet from where Levi is standing, and when he speaks he can feel his breath tickle strands of hair on his neck.

“The others are going to be wondering where we are.”

He throws an apathetic look over his shoulder in an attempt to communicate non-verbally the extent to which he  _ did not  _ give a fuck about ‘the others’, but finds it fails miserably given how it falters and all but disappears when his gaze meets Erwin’s, who is looking at him so intensely and yet with eyes that seem so far away that all of his bodily functions - breathing included - momentarily cease to work. Instantly, the Commander jerks his head and his eyes widen, and he turns his head to the side sheepishly, as if he’d been caught.

Blinking rapidly, Levi says nothing before whipping his head around and letting out a sound that is a strangled mix of a scoff and a nervous laugh. Erwin says nothing either, so he takes that as permission to completely disregard what had just happened.

The towel is now perfectly folded, but he doesn’t think he has the mental capacity to put it down and show that there was nothing distracting Levi from a face to face conversation, and so he carefully places it onto the bed before running his hands along it to smooth out any creases. Thankfully, Erwin wouldn’t find such an action out of order, given how meticulous he always was when it came to matters of cleanliness.

“Let them wait. They’re not worth more than this towel. Have you  _ seen  _ the thread count on it?”

He lifts up the towel, as if the threads were visible from where Erwin was standing. He keeps his own gaze trained on the towel, not daring to look back at him. 

“I do happen to have one of my own.”

However, under some circumstances, one’s better judgement must be ignored. He drops his arms from where they had previously been suspending the towel gloriously in the air - which, apparently, was not the only of its kind in the headquarters - and turns to Erwin incredulously. The Commander in question blinks at him innocently, arms folded delicately behind his back.

“You’re telling me you’ve had some fancy, Sinan towel this whole time and you didn’t think to tell me?”

Levi’s disbelief is surpassed only by his palpable sense of betrayal, that Erwin had kept such an item in his possession in secrecy while he constantly complained about the torturous texture of his own towel. He had owned a better one in the underground, for Wall’s sake.

A glint of amusement sparkles in Erwin’s eyes, and he leans forward ever so slightly - by such a small fraction that one wouldn’t even notice unless, like Levi, you were suddenly and inexplicably hyper aware of every movement that he made.

“Did you expect me to share it with you?”

The response is so startling that he doesn’t have enough time to process it and subsequently prevent the comical widening of his eyes. By some miracle, he manages to get a hold of himself and look away just as the rapid flush climbs up his neck and dyes his skin no doubt an embarrassing shade of red, but he expects that the movement is just as telling as the flush itself. He doesn’t even attempt to dignify his actions with a response, knowing all that is likely to come out is unintelligible stuttering.

Instead, he ignores the grin he can practically feel boring a hole into the back of his neck and, gripping the towel so hard his knuckles turn white, forces himself back under composure. He doesn’t know what had possessed the Commander to say such a thing, other than the impression he’d get a rise out of him (which he had. Congratulations.), so he’d be damned if he let him get what he wanted - especially when he looked so proud of himself for doing so.

He places the towel on the bed - the effort he’d put into folding it utterly useless now that it had become a crumpled mess under his wrath - and takes a deep breath before turning around. The small, but no doubt smug smile on Erwin’s face only further encourages him as he smirks, the closest thing to a smug smile of his own he could muster.

He doesn’t go as far as to lean forward as he had done, more for the sake of his own sanity than Erwin’s, but he keeps his head level and looks up at him with hooded eyes, instead, hoping it has a similar effect.

“Of course not. I would’ve _ stolen  _ it from you.”

A pause.

“Why? Would you have wanted to?”

Fighting the internal urge to punch himself at the words is completely worth it when the smile is all but wiped from Erwin’s face. His expression is utterly blank and indecipherable for a good few seconds, and Levi is worried he may have actually broken him, but not worried enough to do anything other than watch in satisfaction.

Eventually, he blinks - once, and then in rapid succession, as if his brain is only just processing what he had said. Immediately, he straightens up and clears his throat, looking anywhere but at him. An almost awkward silence passes between them for a moment, before Erwin turns back, looking just right of his head, avoiding eye contact.

“Come on, Levi. We’re going to be late.”

Levi knows he’s won, and so he smirks again, walking past him and out of the door.

“Whatever.”

-

He waits until they’re walking down the corridors to the mess hall to fully elaborate on their conversation. 

Clearly, that was not even in the  _ realm _ of the subjects of conversation that should arise between a Commander and his Captain; it was far out of the bubble of topics deemed appropriate. It was also something that would have been odd to discuss between friends; it seemed far too…  _ intimate _ . 

And yet, Levi was tentative to call it what it so clearly was. They had both teased each other, not-so-subtly implying the prospect of showering together. It was, dare he say, blatant flirting.

The admittance of the word seems to knock the breath from his chest, and he has to pause his mental rant in order to recover. He doesn’t know what to think of this revelation, let alone what to do with it. His brain suggests two simple options: elaborate on it, or ignore it.

He risks a glance at Erwin, and finds he is walking peacefully next to him, expression neutral, looking as calm and composed and overall  _ unaffected  _ as he always is. He clearly was not exploring the same hurtling, off the rail train of thought Levi was. Thus a third option presents itself: he was completely over-thinking it.

Consequently, he can safely deposit the situation in a secure, out of mind corner of his brain. Problem solved.

“Levi! Erwin!”

They enter the mess hall to the unfortunate confrontation of Hange, who is currently standing up at their table at the other end of the hall and waving frantically. He internally sighs at the attention they had just drawn to all three of them, but walks over regardless. Moblit, Nanaba, and Mike are also at the table, the latter two clearly still feeling the effects of a horrendous hangover if the cradling of their heads in their hands is anything to go by.

Hange, on the other hand, is practically vibrating with impatience.

“What took you guys so long?”

They slump back into their seat and resume eating a vile concoction of what looks to be everything that was being served for lunch lumped into one pile. He spares it a glance, wrinkling his nose in disgust. There was a reason he only ate the mess hall’s breakfast and just drank black tea during the other meals, and it was because he’s not even sure anything other than their bacon and eggs is actually food.

He takes a seat opposite them - as a result of the unfortunate placement of the rest of the table's occupants, not out of choice - and the Commander follows suit, sitting next to him.

“Erwin was taking a shit.”

Said man doesn’t object, only sends him an exasperated look, 

“Levi.” 

The word comes out as a sigh, but there is no warning behind it. It’s more of a hopeless comment, knowing better than to get involved if Levi was in the mood for making terrible shit jokes. The only jokes in his roster, really.

Hange clearly doesn’t believe the statement, and completely disregards it in favour of addressing the no longer present elephant in the room. Their eyes light up so suddenly it’s almost blinding, and a dubious-food-covered spoon is pointed in their direction, switching its target between the two of them at such a speed that he has to recoil in fear of being covered in that pathetic excuse for a meal.

“Wait, you two are speaking again? I still get to find out what it was about, though, right?”

Levi sends them an unimpressed look and immediately shuts them down. For them, ‘finding out what happened’ was code for ‘I am going to relentlessly interrogate you about it for twelve hours straight’. 

“Nothing happened, Shitty Glasses.”

Erwin, apparently, has developed a moral obligation against lying, as not only does he directly contradict Levi, but provides Hange with the fuel they needed to launch a full blown investigation into the incident.

“There was a slight incident, but it has been resolved.”

He makes sure to send him a glare that conveys the utter betrayal he feels. That idiot. If he wanted to tell Hange about his close encounters with the abolition of the corps, he could tell them himself. Bringing Levi into it was like giving him a prison sentence, and he was pretty sure he didn’t deserve one right now.

(The fact that the mention of the word ‘incident’ conjures a much more recent conversation rather than the events of the previous evening are hastily pushed away from the forefront of his mind.)

Hange’s glee is tangible.

“So something  _ did  _ happen! Care to tell us what about?”

Their hands rest either side of their tray and they lean uncomfortably close to the pair sitting opposite, eyes alight with a hunger for information that is unsettling, almost terrifying. Levi is not so easily swayed.

“I will cut out your tongue and make you eat it.”

They don’t even bat an eye at his threat, only slump their shoulders in disappointment, having failed in breaking one of the informants. On the upside, there was still one informant remaining. Pleading eyes turn to him, desperate.

“Erwin?”

Thankfully, even Erwin seems to know his limits on the topic. Perhaps the thought of sharing the details of what had happened and admitting he had been vulnerable was crossing the line. Regardless, he is thankful that he doesn’t indulge Hange, for his dignity and for his sanity.

“The subject of the conflict is not important, only that it has been dealt with and is no longer a problem.”

They practically deflate, slumping to the table with an exasperated huff. Moblit anticipates this reaction and pulls the tray from under them just before their head hits the surface. The muffled sound of stamping feet can be heard from under the table.

“You’re both so  _ boring _ !”

It takes them a moment to mourn the loss of an interesting story before they realise their time could be better spent doing other, more useful things, such as finding someone else to pester. They bolt upright with newfound vigor, turning to an unsuspecting Moblit with a wide grin, who was still carefully guarding their food.

“Moblit! You have something interesting to talk about, right?”

The man opens and closes his mouth uselessly, scrambling for something to satisfy them and coming up blank. Levi feels a pang of sympathy for the poor soul who has to put up with Hange’s bullshit 24/7, and interjects by mumbling to Erwin, loud enough for the whole table to hear.

“I still can’t believe you left him in charge of an entire regiment while we were a wall away.”

Hange relents their interrogation to look at Levi in offense, then back at Moblit fondly. Their hand reaches up to pet his head, and a dusting of pink settles on his cheeks. Levi can’t decipher if he’s embarrassed or flustered - two emotions he finds he himself is feeling all too often recently.

“I’ll have you know Moblit is extremely capable.”

Erwin says nothing, but nods his approval. Levi finds he agrees, but sees the look Hange directs him as a challenge; he was never one to back down from a challenge. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“You’re right. If he can put up with your bullshit he can do anything.”

The Commander, already sensing what is taking place, merely sighs and picks up his tea, drinking it in blissful ignorance. Nanaba and Mike, who were not so lucky as to be able to block out such confrontation - considering every loud noise was like having a nail drilled into their skulls - groan and place their hands over their ears.

Hange scowls and removes their hand from Moblit’s head, mimicking Levi’s position and crossing their arms across their chest.

“Well I put up with all of  _ your  _ bullshit so  _ someone  _ has to put up with mine.”

Levi returns the scowl, eyebrows furrowed as he prepares to deliver another insult. Moblit watches on anxiously, wanting to calm Hange down but not wanting to interject. Mike and Nanaba are sending strings of curses towards the pair under the protection of muffled ears. Erwin sighs and places down his teacup.

Just as Levi opens his mouth to continue the insult trade-off a hand rests gently on his arm, and he shuts his mouth so quickly the sound is audible. Erwin doesn’t even seem to notice the profoundness of the effect the placement of his hand has, only that it had effectively halted further confrontation.

He doesn’t even glance at Levi, only directs his gaze to Moblit with kind eyes, but his hand remains in place.

“Moblit, how were the Scouts in our absence?”

Barely recovered from the spontaneity of what had just happened, Moblit gapes frantically for a moment to regain his ability of speech, but manages to compose himself quite quickly. He straightens his posture and clears his throat.

“Just fine, Sir. There was a slight confrontation between two soldiers in the Barracks over a pair of boots, but other than that everything was in order.”

He doesn’t know what to do. He should probably shrug the hand off. It had served his purpose, he had effectively shut him up - and yet no matter how terrifying it somehow was, it was simultaneously a comforting presence. So, instead of pushing him away, he stays deathly still in the hopes that Erwin just forgets about his hand and leaves it where it is.

Hange was doing enough moving for the both of them anyway, throwing their hands up in despair at yet another revelation of nothing but disappointment.

“So  _ nothing  _ interesting happened? There was a party last night -  _ with alcohol  _ \- and none of you have anything interesting to tell me?”

Their eyes scan up and down the table - Mike and Nanaba, who had clearly gained nothing from the party but a splitting headache; Moblit, who had nothing but twenty fours hours worth of everyday life tales; Levi and Erwin, who had experienced something story worthy but were both adamant about not saying a word. Nothing.

They groan and stick their head into their hands.

“I demand compensation for your utterly boring lives.”

A pause while they lift their head with such speed they likely got whiplash, eyes sparkling, 

“Erwin, let’s capture a titan on the next expedition!”

He doesn’t even miss a beat.

“No.”

Another wail of despair.

“Please!”

Levi huffs out a breath through his nose, knowing that by interjecting he draws attention to himself and will likely result in the removal of Erwin’s hands from where it had now become a grounding weight on his arm. But, he isn’t going to just there while Hange goes out on a limb to try and convince him to sacrifice countless lives just to sate their weird obsession with titans. 

“He said no, you Titan Freak. You want to kill the new recruits on their first expedition?”

Levi notices that the hand stays on his arm even after he speaks up, and he tries to quell the foreign feeling that blooms almost uncomfortably in his chest at the knowledge.

Hange seems to ponder his point before sighing. Of course they didn’t want to do that. It was one thing to send soldiers to their deaths, but it was another to send fifteen year-old soldiers, most of whom had not even seen a titan yet.

Their determination was damn persistent, though.

“Oh. Then, how about a compromise? You tell me-”

“No.”

Thankfully, they seem to finally give up after that last ditch attempt, slumping down in their seat dejectedly.

“Hmph.”

The table sits in silence for a moment, having endured far too much commotion for what was meant to be a calm, post-party lunch. Soon after, the hand on his arm tentatively removes itself, and Levi tries to hide his disappointment with a scowl. When Erwin then stands up to address the room, he tries to comfort himself with the assumption that he had, therefore, only removed it out of necessity, and then berates himself for needing comfort over something so trivial.

“Scouts, I hope you enjoyed your meals. Training begins in fifteen minutes, please make your way to your training areas.”

A mixture of groans - the older scouts - and excited murmurs - the new recruits - sound throughout the hall at his announcement. He gives them a moment to contain themselves before continuing.

“New recruits, you will be training under Captain Levi.”

At that, the reactions are definitely mixed: excitement to be able to be trained by ‘humanity’s strongest soldier’ himself, followed by the realisation that ‘humanity’s strongest soldier’ was going to be  _ watching  _ them. The room is buzzing with anticipation.

Erwin sits back down and Levi turns to him.

“They’ll be what?”

There is no apology for not consulting him beforehand, only a look.

“You’re our most capable soldier, Levi. We need the recruits at the best of their ability before the expedition.”

Levi scoffs, folding his arms back across his chest and looking away with furrowed eyebrows.

“Fine. Doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it, though.”

That was good enough of a ‘yes’ for Erwin, especially by Levi’s terms, and so his gaze softens at his compliance.

“As long as you don’t scare them off.”

His tone is light-hearted, and Levi knows that means he’s not mad at him, something which required clarification because he had been sure that pairing him with the new recruits was revenge for some wrongdoing he’d committed. 

Rolling his eyes, he mumbles under his breath, but loud enough for Erwin to hear.

“If I scare them off, they’ve got no chance against a titan.”

The Commander stands up again and walks around the back of the bench where Levi is still sitting. He stops and turns to look at him and Levi, sensing a pair of eyes on his back, turns to do the same. His hand comes to rest on his shoulder, and is gone just as quickly.

“I’m sure some of them are more scared of you than they are of the titans.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (01.03.20) a new chapter is coming i promise!! i'm kind of failing college right now so i'm having to work practically all day so i'm trying I'm sorry!! i'll try and get a chapter out by tuesday :')) 
> 
> thank you so much for all the comments it makes me so happy reading them!!
> 
> also please eruri being in love :')
> 
> (this chapter is also unbetad so im sorry for any mistakes!!)


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